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Merci et Au Revoir, Arsene (La Saison en Revue, Aussi)

Photo: Getty Images

So, here we are, then. Finally, after a solid century or so
(it feels like it, anyway) of tedious intra-fanbase warfare, we stand on the
precipice of our next Brave New World: Anno Domini 1 in the Post-Arsene Era, etc
and so on.

Well, until they get around to announcing Mikel Arteta as
the replacement, anyway…a move that one half of the aforementioned warring
parties is already taking with the expected levels of good grace and reasoned
thought.

Sigh.

Now that the great man is truly being dragged off into the sunset,
it feels anti-climactic in a way, much like this season did by Boxing Day or so.
All of that in-fighting, all of the plane-borne banners, the angry Tweets, the
gallons of ink spilled (virtual and otherwise) about whether this was the time
to get rid, and it doesn’t feel all that different in the end. “We’re out of
Coke, is Pepsi OK?”. Sure.

Still, had you told me that we’d be sat here discussing
Arsene Wenger’s legacy and/or replacement at precisely the moment when Thibaut
Courtois’ comedy Community Shield penalty was rocketing towards the
stratosphere, I’d have sagely nodded while waiting for the best moment to call
the men in the white coats.

Then again, if you told me that after we face-planted to two
straight losses soon after – including against a dead-club-walking Stoke City
side – I’d have been a more receptive audience.

The thing is, we all know the massive improvements that
Wenger brought to the English game. In fact, I’d argue that all of this money
and glitz and worldwide recognition wouldn’t have happened (at least not to
this extent) without Arsene paving the way. In a sense, I don’t know if anyone
in the history of all football has been so thoroughly hoisted by their own petard.
Beaten by well-drilled pressing sides that would never have been fit enough to
play that way 15 years ago, managed by foreign coaches who would have never
gotten a look in back then either. It must drive him mad, in his private
moments.

While most of us in Arsenal NYC have only ever known
Arsene-nal, I do pre-date him…just. As one of our resident Old Persons, I
remember what the football was like back then. It’s not something I’m desperate
to relive in a hurry, that’s for sure. One game that always sticks in my mind
from the 1997-98 Double season was a home match against Blackburn Rovers where
we got absolutely tonked – 1-3 was a flattering scoreline on the day. Arguably
the nadir of the campaign, against a club that finished a solid 6th
place in the end. The kicker, though? That Rovers team was AWFUL by today’s
standards.

So, what we’re talking here is England’s No. 3 in goal, one
upper-middle class defender in Hendry, massive thundercunt Sutton (who was a pretty
good player, hate to say), and THAT’S IT. That lot would have been eviscerated
by Huddersfield this season. THIS is what Arsene saved us from, even if it was
to his own personal detriment later in his career. They should name the ground
after him just for the fact that we don’t have to watch 2018’s Tim Sherwood
equivalent play Premier League football alone. When you’re grading the man on
his later years, remember that the mid-to-lower classes back then didn’t have
players like Xherdan Shaqiri or Richarlison or Wilifred Zaha running around. It’s
a different world now.

That brings me back to my point about his role in ushering
in this modern era of Premier League football. Would the league have expanded
its footprint to Asia, the US, and elsewhere to the extent that it has if it still
featured the agricultural hoofball of days gone by? Would the league have been
this attractive a prospect to TV partners (in turn bringing in the crazy money
that allows a Watford to have a player like Richarlison) if Wenger hadn’t shown
the way with Bergkamp and Henry and Pires and Vieira, etc and so on? Not bloody
likely. Would Arsene have had it this rough in his declining years if the league
hadn’t become this much of a rock fight mostly due to teams like Watford having
players like Richarlison? Here too, not bloody likely.

Any look back at Arsene’s legacy also has to consider his
mortal enemy. Batman and the Joker, Seinfeld and Newman, Ric Flair and Sting…whatever
metaphor you choose, Arsene’s story is forever intertwined with Alex Ferguson’s.
An entire era of Premier League football that reduced all and sundry else to mere
footnotes, the slips of paper in the Playbill saying that such-and-such
understudy will be playing the part of the Phantom for this Thursday matinee. I
did an interview for the BBC World Radio right after the final whistle against
Burnley, and all I remember saying is how Arsene was the only one who ever truly
punched Ferguson’s teams in the mouth. People forget this now, but the rest of
the league wilted in old Taggart’s presence to a preposterous and embarrassing
degree. Referees, other teams, it was appalling. Thank you for visiting, sir.
Here are your three points, sir. My god, it makes me so angry all these years
later. Get fucked, all of you.

I thought about those days a lot as we were losing at Old Trafford
yet again right after the capitulation in Madrid, just as I did earlier in the
season when we lost to them at home, too. Just another little sign that Arsene’s
powers, waning in these past few years to be sure, were well and truly gone.

It feels awful to say, but you can’t honestly talk about said
legacy without pointing out the moments this season that showed just to what
degree his continued presence was frittering it away. The FA Cup, long his
signature competition on Albion’s shores, signed off on with a ridiculous defeat
to an awful Nottingham Forest side at the first hurdle. Away draws to Southampton,
West Ham and West Bromwich Albion, crisis clubs for different reasons. A
nothing-doing away loss in the NLD. The 3-3 vs. Liverpool that we should have
won. Away losses to Watford, Bournemouth, Newcastle, Swansea and even fucking
Ostersunds. Hardly a murderer’s row, innit?

It feels almost like blasphemy to say it, but in some
respects Arsene was never the same after Sam Allardyce’s Bolton teams sussed out
how to beat him on the road. Yes, I just threw up a bit in my mouth, too. Even
Superman had his kryptonite, I suppose.

Let’s not forget the now-customary false dawns, while we’re
on the subject. The home win in the NLD, the 5-2 against Everton, the Europa
League ties against AC Milan and CSKA Moscow…all made us hope once again that
the corner had been turned for good.

Oh, and don’t neglect his reputation as something of a nearly-man…that
CV updated this season with the League Cup final and the Europa semifinals,
both ending in losses to clubs that personified just how past his sell-by date
Arsene truly was by the end. The funny thing is both were not even close to his
worst losses in either side of it (if we count the EL and the CL together) –
neither within visual distance of THAT Birmingham game or THAT Barcelona game. Arsene
will be remembered for the trophies he won, but he’ll be remembered just as
much for the ones he didn’t (and, if you look back with a critical eye, he
should have taken more off of Ferguson than he did, too).

On the whole, though, you have to mark down Arsene much
further in credit than in demerit…and frankly only a churlish asshole would disagree.
We do seem to have no shortage of those these days, however. That’s the funny
thing, now that I think back some more on the past and where we’ve been. All we
apparently wanted during the austerity years was money spent on big-name players
– then Mesut Ozil comes in, and half the Gooner massive were conned by idiots
like John Cross and Neil Ashton that he was nicking a living. You can only
truly fathom the depths of Arsene’s love for the club when you consider how
long he stuck around in the face of things like this.

Another point I find in his favor is that once it became
apparent that the end was coming, he started making tangible steps to clear the
decks for the next guy, to leave him in as good a nick as possible for what
will be a challenging-at-best transition. Not bad for a guy who had the knock
on him (mostly true) that we did the same old shit for too long. Bringing in first
Alex Lacazette and then Pierre-Erick Aubameyang, both on silly money (and the
second involving the departure of a favorite in Olivier Giroud) has left us
with a potent attack for the next manager to leverage. Those two, with Ozil
supplying them in the right system, can do a significant amount of damage.

And there, in the end, is the reason why I’m quietly hopeful
for next season. As much as I love the guy and as influential as he was, my
honest assessment is that Arsene himself has been the one holding us back for
ages. Despite what the Twitter mouth-breathers will say, most of the personnel
to me isn’t a problem (though I admit a shiny new goalkeeper would not go
amiss). I can’t say who’s staying or going next season…but if they stick
around, just wait and see with players like Shkdoran Mustafi and Granit Xhaka.
A little direction, a more coherent system around them? I suspect that many of
us will be surprised.

That, of course, brings it back to the likelihood that
Arteta will be the next manager. On the face of it, I don’t like it. We’re a
big club, and it’s been too long in my opinion since we acted like it. Back up a
dump truck full of money at Max Allegri’s house, and I assume he wouldn’t be
THAT bothered about working within our new management structure. All we can do
as supporters, though, is *gasp* SUPPORT whoever does come in, whether we think
they’re going to do the business or not. If we’re in 6th or 7th
by Christmas next year? Great, have a moan! I know I will! But before a ball
has been kicked? Fuck alllllllllllllllllllllll the way off with that, my guy.

Those are concerns for another time, though. A great man has
left us at the end of this season – that is indisputable. But, the sun still
comes up at the beginning of each day. There’s still an Arsenal Football Club,
there’s still a Premier League and a Europa League to fight for next season,
and there’s still a bloody great club for us to support. Thank you for everything,
Arsene. We’ve got it from here.